


Sweet Fruit

by PandaMega



Category: One Piece
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Canon Universe, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, ZoSan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaMega/pseuds/PandaMega
Summary: A mysterious devil-fruit user attacks Zoro while he’s alone with Sanji gathering supplies. The power forces the two of them to engage in lustful acts at the risk of death, making them face their own desire and come to terms with their feelings for each other. Lots of sex.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my betas, Cotzo and Karla!

“I swear to god why is it always the weird fuckers?!”

Kicks flew out as Sanji huffed in frustration at the bizarre group of pirates that had sprung out of nowhere. Powerful feet smashed into the face of one hideous and scantily clad pirate.

“You’re one to talk.”

A smirking swordsman cut through three more enemies, his long green robes whisking behind him.

“You better watch your ass, moss-head. Wait, that’s your mouth.” Another flurry of kicks sent a pair of overweight middle-aged pirates in ill-fitting fishnet stockings flying into the surrounding brush. The enemy pirates seemed to be wearing a mix of lingerie and bedroom attire that was all too jarring in contrast with their rough, pirate features.

“Honestly you fit right in with these freaks, I should just cut you down with the rest of them.”

Sanji scowled, sending a spinning roundhouse dangerously close to the swordsman’s head while taking out the pirate behind him. “Cut me down? I’d like to see you try,” he huffed, straightening his button-down shirt as he leaned backwards until his shoulder blades pressed up against Zoro’s, heat transferring between their backs before they launched away from each other again, throwing attacks dangerously, teasingly close to the other while easily dodging everything that came their way. 

Fighting back to back with each other was a mutually thrilling experience. Zoro loved that they could argue and threaten to kick each other’s asses while coordinating their attacks with perfect, unspoken synchronization. Sanji loved that he could talk shit to the swordsman while simultaneously trusting in his every move. When they turned their backs to each other, there was no place safer than that space between them. Nothing unwanted could pass that threshold. As much as their words declared loathing for one another, their actions spoke of unwavering trust, and this paradox made their fights and interactions exhilarating in a fulfilling and sometimes confusing way. They had never spoken of it, but there was an electricity between them, as if both of their bodies were humming at frequencies that had them crashing constantly in a brilliant buzz. But when they came together they could match those frequencies in an instant, operating at the same wavelength so their bodies moved with matching intention, matching intensity, and anything became possible.

Making quick work of the enemy pirates while throwing insults to each other all the while, the chef and swordsman pair soon found themselves standing over a dozen or so unconscious bodies. Having pummelled the crew thoroughly, the pair brushed themselves off, still bickering, and continued walking deeper into the thickly forested island. It was a heavily wooded summer island and they would stay anchored here for the next week until the log pose set. As the island did not appear to be settled, the crew was left to scavenge the forest for food and supplies, and Sanji found himself lucky enough to be partnered with the green neanderthal to keep the man from becoming utterly lost in the wilderness.

The cook abruptly shoved Zoro aside to inspect the ground, “Watch where you’re stepping you lump, I think that was an edible mushroom.” 

“ _ You’re _ an edible mushroom” came Zoro’s cheeky and absolutely ineffective retort.

Sanji snorted rather unattractively and looked back up at him from his crouched position over the crushed mushroom then started laughing.

Scowling indignantly, Zoro shouted, “What’s so funny?!” 

The sound of twigs splintering underfoot caught both men’s attention and they looked up just in time to dodge a hazy wave of pink light that shot in their direction. A short, pudgy man with lecherous eyes and a crooked nose stood in their path scowling.

“You’re the bastards that took out my crew?”

Sanji scoffed at the wretched looking man, “Don’t tell me,  _ that _ is their captain?”

“It’s their fault for being so weak.” Zoro chided.

Infuriated by their remarks, the captain raised both hands and aimed his palms towards the two men, shouting “Lust lust beam!”

Once again, the pirates jumped aside, dodging the pink laser beam. Hazy light seemed to shoot out of the man’s hands like a sunbeam, illuminating everything in its path with a soft warm glow which faded after a few seconds, leaving no trace or after effects. The foliage and trees that had stood in the path of the beam appeared undamaged. 

“Does it… even do anything?” The chef scoffed, noting that there was no burning, wilting, or other physical effect on the landscape from the attack.

“Don’t underestimate me!” The pudgy man took aim again, this time pointing both hands at Sanji for his retort.

“Enough of this bullshit,” the swordsman muttered, charging the enemy with all three swords drawn to make quick work of him. 

“ _ Beam!! _ ” 

There was a clash, the enemy captain was sent flying into the trees behind him. However, the enemy had swung his hands around directly in Zoro’s face just as the swordsman had attacked, stunning him with the bright beam and thwarting the full force of the devastating blow. Zoro had halted in his tracks and stood frozen, swords held mid-swing, having not followed through after taking a face-full of the pink light. The half-attack was still enough to send the enemy pirate crashing into the foliage, but the sight of the powerful swordsman frozen in place, face unreadable at this angle, had an uneasiness stirring in Sanji’s gut.

“Marimo?” It had been ages since anything had been able to stop the swordsman mid-swing. The chef was shocked that this pathetic looking pirate captain was able to stun the demonic ‘pirate hunter’ with such a weak attack. Zoro fell to one knee, which had Sanji’s eyes bulging. Since the swordsman had returned from their two years apart with one eye and an unwavering confidence, the cook hadn’t seen Zoro even bleed, much less fall to a knee.

“Stand up marimo!” Sanji growled, then turned his attention to the pirate stirring in the bushes. “What did you do to him?” he shouted toward the crumpled form of the defeated pudgy pirate.

A sinister laugh rose from the bushes where the man had landed. “Gotcha.”

Zoro had now fallen to both knees, face flushed red, looking down, hiding an agonized scowl. Hands were clenched in a white-knuckled grip and it took all of his strength to suppress the trembling that wracked his body. His heart was pounding and it felt like all of the blood in his body had rushed through his guts to swell the space between his thighs. All thoughts had left his brain and he was left with a fuzzy numbness and an excruciating hunger that sapped the energy out of him. He looked up, with great effort, to meet Sanji’s eyes, intending to offer a reassuring look, but instead, upon seeing the chef’s bewildered and concerned face and meeting those crystal blue eyes, a jolt of electricity coursed through his body rippling over his skin with shivers. He was suddenly filled with a confusing desire that left his head spinning. 

Sanji was floored but maintained a calm and collected disposition, shifting his weight and exhaling a cloud of smoke from the cigarette in his lips. Zoro had looked up at him with a face that read  _ desperation _ , and it sent a tightness to his chest. Never had he imagined that the strong, hot-headed swordsman would have such a helpless look on his face, never had he imagined Zoro to be so pitifully subdued by such a weak opponent. Something was wrong.

“ _ What did you do? _ ” Sanji hissed, fury mounting within him as he prepared to smash the ugly little man’s head through the trees behind him.

“Your friend is going to die of hunger if he doesn’t get his fill,” the man crooned, coughing between words from the pain of Zoro’s previous attack, but managing to climb back to his feet.

The chef froze in place.  _ Hunger? _ There was no way in hell he’d let any of his crewmates die of hunger. “I’ll just kill you and he’ll go back to normal,” Sanji growled, walking towards the injured pirate.

“Tsk tsk. If you kill the man that stabs you, does the wound go away?” the creepy man laughed shakily, still recovering from his injuries. This gave Sanji pause, and a deep worry coursed through him. The answer, of course, was ‘no’. Devil fruit abilities were hit or miss when it came to things like this; Sometimes defeating the opponent cancelled the fruit’s effects, while other times the damage lingered even after the user was dead. 

“My Lust Lust beam makes you feel like your body is starving from desire. If they aren’t brought to ecstasy soon, the hunger will kill them.” The man backed away, attempting to sneak off into the woods.

Sanji snarled, stepping forward to stop the man’s escape, then glanced back at Zoro’s form, now on hands and knees breathing heavily.  _ Shit. Fuck. _ Zoro looked bad. He needed to get him to Chopper immediately, it was more important to save the marimo right now, he’d deal with the other bastard eventually, but he was not going to let Zoro fucking starve. His pride as a chef would see to that.

The enemy pirate scampered away into the woods and Sanji begrudgingly let him go, rushing to Zoro’s side and kneeling next to him.

“Hey, shithead,” he uttered awkwardly, “get your ass up so I can take you to Chopp-”

“Don’t touch me,” Zoro spat through gritted teeth.

The chef’s brow furrowed. If Zoro was experiencing hunger akin to starvation Sanji understood, and he wasn’t about to let the swordsman throw a fit because his big ego didn’t want Sanji’s help. “Come on,” he growled, grabbing Zoro’s arm and lifting, forcing them to come face-to-face. A single, intense eye stared back at him and the look alone could have set the seas ablaze. Sanji’s heart stopped in his chest and in an instant firm hands had slid past his jaw and behind his neck, strong fingers weaving into his hair, as he was pulled forward until his lips crashed into Zoro’s mouth and he was being kissed hungrily. Shock froze Sanji in place as he processed what was happening. The moss headed fool had put his mouth on his. He was being kissed. Hungrily.

_ Hungrily. _

_ Oh. _

The gears finally clicked and Sanji understood what was going on. The beam. The fucking beam. The fucking Lust Lust beam. It made Zoro  _ hungry _ with desire. So that’s what the asshole had meant. Sanji closed his eyes and a wave of acceptance washed over him with a calmness that surprised himself. Maybe it was his pride as a chef, or maybe it was because Zoro was  _ nakama _ , or maybe it was something else altogether, but the decision was instantaneous. He would do this for Zoro, because he wasn’t about to let a crewmate starve to death, not in any way. 

When realization hit Zoro and reality had blasted through his trance-like daze, his first reaction was to  _ stop, stop right now!!! _ It took an immense amount of willpower, but he forced himself to pull back and barely managed to push Sanji away, awash with shame over the emotions that were overtaking him. Pressing his hands firmly against Sanji’s chest, eyes averted and unable to meet the gaze of the man he’d just assaulted, he growled, “ _ Go _ .” If the chef stayed near him for a second longer he didn’t think he’d be able to control himself. Every fiber of Zoro’s body was aching to pounce on the man in front of him, feast on his body in the most lecherous way possible. For the first time in his life he was genuinely scared. He was scared of what he would do, what he wanted to do, what he was about to do if the god damn shit cook didn’t get the hell away from him immediately. When Sanji didn’t move he articulated his speech with a harsh shove, barking “ _ GO. _ ”

_ Typical. _

Typical Zoro move. But Sanji wasn’t about to abandon a crewmate in need, and the shitty swordsman wasn’t going to get away with pushing away the help of other people for the sake of his own pride or ego. This wasn’t something he could get through alone and Sanji would be damned if he let the swordsman die over something so utterly ludicrous. He was prepared, from the moment he had stepped foot on Luffy’s ship all those years ago, to take the lives of everyone on board in his hands, to be responsible for their health and wellbeing as their chef. He would  _ never  _ walk away from that responsibility, regardless of the circumstances, regardless of how self-centered and self-destructive and altogether infuriating the swordsman could be. Damn the consequences to hell, he would save this reckless man no matter what he had to do. He took Zoro’s face in both hands and forcefully turned his head to face him.

“ _ Like hell I’m letting you die like this, _ ” Sanji growled, and without hesitation, he pressed his mouth to Zoro’s in a firm, decisive kiss. 

Sanji threw himself into the kiss with determination to do it right, to satisfy whatever hunger had awakened in his crewmate. But when Zoro slid his tongue over Sanji’s lower lip and sucked it into his mouth, it finally occurred to the chef just what exactly he had gotten himself into. A chill went down his spine while a heated flush climbed up his chest and to his cheeks. The kiss was hot and wet and intense with desire and Sanji suddenly began feeling flustered and extremely nervous. His thoughts flicked back to what the enemy pirate had said.

_ “If they aren’t brought to ecstasy soon, the hunger will kill them.” _

_ “Ecstasy.” _

The sudden realization hit Sanji like a ton of bricks. 

_ Fuck.  _

He had to take Zoro _ all the way _ . He had to finish him off. He had to take him to the peak, make the volcano erupt, fire the torpedoes, boil him over, flood the banks. He had to… Just what exactly did he have to do? And how was he going to do this???

But it seemed like Zoro had a mind to take things into his own hands.

The devil fruit power had awoken something in the swordsman that had been lying dormant, and it was now bursting out of him with a furious hunger that he couldn’t contain. Lewd thoughts of the chef that he’d always managed to suppress to the very back of his subconscious had now sprung to the forefront of his mind with a hot and needy intensity. And now here he was, kissing Sanji like his life depended on it - his life  _ did  _ depend on it. The guilt and shame for assaulting the chef like this were buried under waves of desire that flooded over and crashed into him. He felt like a tsunami rearing up to crash into the coastline. Part of his mind was screaming at him to stop, but the physical urgency of his condition was overwhelming. Every part of him wanted Sanji. Every part of him wanted to be as close and intimate as possible. He wanted, needed, to put his mouth on every inch of exposed skin, slide his hands over that perfectly lithe body. He wanted to be on him,  _ in _ him. 

Zoro kissed the chef with an open-mouthed hunger as if he were savoring one of Sanji’s dishes, sucking and licking at Sanji’s lips and tongue as if he couldn’t let a drop or an inch of the man go to waste. Pulling the chef’s tongue into his mouth and nipping it with his teeth elicited a barely-suppressed moan from Sanji that had Zoro growling in return, something fierce and primitive awakening at the vibration. He wanted to hear more of those delicious sounds. He bit at Sanji’s lips, the sharp line of his jaw bone, trailed a tongue over the sensitive skin of his neck, behind his ear, and pulled an earlobe between his lips sending shivers up the chef’s spine. 

Sanji couldn’t believe the acute lewdness of the swordsman. When did he learn to kiss like this?! He found himself more affected than he had expected, and Zoro’s strong, trained hands roaming over him had his skin alight with sensitivity. He was loathe to admit that he was enjoying this, but he’d be a liar if he said this wasn’t the most erotic experience of his life, despite his partner being an absolute barbarian… And Sanji just wanted that barbarian to tear him asunder.

A strong hand cupped one side of Sanji’s neck and the chef leaned into it, exposing the other side to Zoro’s teeth. The swordsman buried his face in the long, pale neck, Sanji’s soft locks brushing over his face and smelling distinctly of the chef - sweet, spicy, smoky, sweaty. He opened his mouth to rake his teeth down the length of skin, teeth smooth and sharp and powerful. Every bite to Sanji’s neck seemed connected to the nerves in Sanji’s stomach, which drew heat further south into dangerous territory that had him becoming very aroused, very fast. He was shuddering involuntarily under the whispered breaths and bladelike teeth, playing at his sensitive skin. Brain muddled, he worried if perhaps he had been affected by the beam too, though he knew he had not. This feeling was not the product of some foreign power. It was purely Zoro. Zoro was doing this to him. Zoro was making him weak in the knees and trembling for more. And as much as he might hate the swordsman, he trusted him. He trusted the way their bodies had, from the very beginning, responded perfectly to each other, whether they were fighting each other or fighting together. And now their bodies were once again perfectly in tune but in an altogether different way and it was exhilarating and so, so wrong, but felt so right. He would give in to the feeling under the pretense of saving Zoro. He might never be able to face the swordsman again, he might never live it down, but fuck it all to hell because he was on a roller coaster off the rails and if he was going to crash and burn, he was going to enjoy it to the last second.

Roving hands slid around Sanji’s waist, pulling up the shirt from the back and slipped underneath, instantly relieved by the feel of warm skin. Drops of sweat were gathering at the small of Sanji’s back and rough fingers slid over the cool, slick moisture as they explored the dramatic angles of powerful back muscles.  The calloused hands on Sanji’s back were rough and demanding, kneading into the tense muscles of the chef’s back in a way that had him rocking into them wanting more. He hadn’t realized how starved for physical affection he had been, nor how badly his aching body wanted the tension worked out of his sinews. Somehow Zoro seemed to know exactly what to do, exactly where to touch, exactly where to kiss, to put Sanji in a daze. The chef had at some point been pulled into Zoro’s lap, and with a blooming flush he realized with embarrassment that he was hard under his pants and was pressed up directly against the swordsman’s own hardness. As Zoro massaged into his lower back the chef found himself rolling into the pressure, grinding their hips together sinfully. Distantly he knew that he was supposed to be the one pleasuring Zoro, the one who had been affected by the beam, but he honestly didn’t know what to do besides sit there and succumb to Zoro’s hunger, rocking in his lap while the life was kissed out of him. 

With great restraint, Zoro willed himself to be slow and gentle despite everything inside of him screaming to tear into the chef with reckless abandon. His kisses were desperate and fierce and starved, his hands dug into Sanji’s back with a craving, and every roll of Sanji’s hips sent waves of pleasure crashing into his brain threatening him to lose control. Lifting Sanji by the hips, Zoro found himself lowering Sanji back to lay in the grass, climbing on top and caging Sanji under him with his sturdy forearms resting on either side of his head, barely breaking his connection to the chef’s lips. A momentary panic flickered through Sanji from being pushed onto his back and pinned down, a part of him saying to kick the bastard off of him. But another part of him was acutely aroused by the exchange of power. He could lose control, pinned down by Zoro, because at the end of every fight, every argument, every disagreement, he trusted the man with his life. And there was something powerfully liberating about being able to bodily succumb to this man that he wholly trusted. It was terrible and terribly exciting.

Rough hands slid up the front of Sanji’s shirt, hiking the fabric up to his collarbone. Zoro kissed down the smooth neck to the chef’s sternum, letting his thumbs flick over Sanji’s nipples in a way that could only be described as sinful. Such a thing shouldn’t be allowed to feel so erotic. As Zoro’s head moved lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down Sanji’s abs, the chef became aware of where the swordsman was going. Heat rushed up his neck and to his cheeks as Zoro’s mouth went dangerously close to the growing bulge in his pants. His heart raced so fast with apprehension he thought he might pass out, and he began squirming under Zoro’s weight to move the man aside, only to be met with a firm grip planting his hips in place on the ground. The swordsman looked up at him with his one half-lidded eye, the other eye hidden behind a scarred lid that was both dreadful and dreadfully sexy. The heated, hungry look pinned Sanji down as much as the hands, and he felt a lump form in his throat. That look didn’t so much ask for permission, it completely shredded Sanji’s composure and  _ took _ permission. A trembling breath escaped the chef’s lips and he fell back to succumb to the beast above him.

The wet, hungry mouth kissed and sucked at the skin of Sanji’s hips and sternly cut obliques. The muscles tensed under Zoro’s lips in anticipation as each lean, rippling muscle was worshipped. The firm grip on Sanji’s hips loosened and those hands slid to his belt, sliding it out of the buckle and unclasping it with a tug that pulled at the tight fabric constricting his arousal. A slight groan escaped Sanji’s lips and his hands unconsciously moved to Zoro’s corded shoulders, squeezing at the tense muscles to which the swordsman hummed in pleasure. Sanji leaned up on one elbow to watch Zoro as he slid the length of the belt out from under the chef’s hips. The swordsman lowered his head, taking the front of Sanji’s pant’s in his teeth to pull it free from the buttons.

_ Fuck. _

Did that guy have any idea how sexy he was? This was not something Sanji had ever wanted to realize but god damn, he was realizing it now. Zoro was a sexy bastard. 

When the front of Sanji’s pants were open Zoro gripped the sides of the fabric with both hands and tugged sharply, exposing the chef completely in an instant which had him kicking in protest. Zoro looked back up at him, face hovering precariously over Sanji’s exposed shaft, asking for permission with a lusty gaze while his tongue lazily slid across his lips.

_ Fuck. _

Sanji fell back in resignation, heart racing at the thought of what was about to happen, dizzy with arousal and confusion over his own emotions, but all thoughts were instantly stifled as a hot, demanding tongue was dragged from the base of his dick to the tip. 

Sanji let out a sharp gasp, hand flying to his mouth to stifle the sound as his body was wracked with pleasure. Two hands slid down the front of his hips, massaging the knots of muscles where his hips hinged while Zoro licked at the throbbing organ, one hand sliding to it while he mouthed along the side of the length, teeth grazing the smooth surface, tongue playing across the skin as he moved his kisses from base to tip in teasing appraisal. Finally he pulled the head into his mouth with a strong suction making Sanji stifle a groan, then lowered his mouth completely over the shaft until his nose nuzzled the soft golden curls at the base. He gently shook his head side to side and swallowed around the stiff length in his mouth, eliciting a long, keening moan from the chef who arched beneath him. Zoro began dragging his head up and down in impossibly deep, steady strokes and Sanji found himself rocking into the movements, his hands instinctively moving down and tangling in the messy green hair, sliding over the thick muscles of Zoro’s powerful neck and digging his fingers into the caramel skin. 

The swordsman hummed in appreciation, vibrating Sanji’s dick, sending a rippling buzz up his spine making him clench his fingernails deeper into Zoro’s shoulders. Vaguely his brain questioned why Zoro was focusing so intently on pleasuring him instead of receiving pleasure. Zoro was the one who would actually die if he didn’t reach “ecstasy” after all. Sanji mustered up the strength to rise back onto one elbow and look down at the swordsman. The sight nearly made him come on the spot.

Zoro’s impossibly powerful sword-wielding mouth was intently rising and falling perfectly over the entire length of Sanji’s cock, while the swordsman knelt over him, robes splayed open, with one hand tucked into his pants where he was pleasuring himself. 

_ Holy fucking shit. _

There was nothing more arousing in the world than seeing Zoro bent over him sucking him off while stroking himself. Sanji hadn’t realized that he’d let out an audible gasp at the sight, and the swordsman looked back up at him, mouth stuffed and face flushed, eye dilated and dazed with desire. The breath caught in Sanji’s throat as he unconsciously pulled his lower lip into his mouth, biting and worrying at it. Zoro’s hungry eye followed the movement intently, Sanji’s tongue wetting his lips as he continued biting at his lower lip, sweating and cheeks flushed a heated pink, golden locks messily framing his face, the blue of his eyes just a faint glimmer of sapphire around the swollen pupils dilated with arousal. Zoro’s brain wasn’t working, he was simply moving on instinct and desire, mouth plunging up and down over Sanji’s deliciously perfect dick with his eyes trained on the chef’s face, drunk on euphoria. He slid his mouth up the length, dragging his rough tongue up the sensitive underside and sucking all the way until he plucked his mouth off the tip with an audible ‘pop,’ exposing the wet flesh to the cool air for just a second before plunging back down on it, lips pursed together perfectly tight, diving down the entire length and maintaining eye contact all the while until Sanji rolled his head back in pleasure, unable to suppress the moans that escaped his mouth with every breath. Zoro  revelled in how the chef attempted to stifle his moaning by biting his lip, making the sound come out in an aching groan and leaving his smooth lips red and puffy. Those lips were so perfectly suckable.

Without thinking, Zoro slurped his mouth off of Sanji’s dick again, this time replacing it with the hand that had been stroking himself as he climbed back over Sanji, supporting himself with an elbow by the blonde’s head and combing fingers through the smooth locks. The chef looked up at him in a daze as Zoro lowered himself to his lips. Sanji’s gut reaction should have been to recoil but instead he pressed into Zoro’s mouth meeting his hunger, bashfully noting his own salty, musky taste. The warm weight of something fell against his abdomen and Sanji absently moved a hand to the object, realizing with a hot flush that he was holding Zoro’s heavy length in his hand. He was unsure of what to do but he knew that his mission was to get Zoro to climax, so he pumped at it in much the same way he would work his own arousal. Gripping it firmly he delivered each stroke with intention making Zoro groan into the kiss hungrily. Sanji found his grip clashing with the swordsman’s working hand, and he lifted his hips, pressing up against Zoro so that their arousals pressed together, and the two men adjusted their grasp around both shafts while Zoro lowered his hips down to press into Sanji. They found themselves thrusting in time into their fists, kissing each other feverishly. Sanji’s lips were nectar and Zoro was addicted, he just wanted to dissolve into him, and with each thrust towards Sanji he felt closer, but it wasn’t close enough to satisfy him. The impediment of their clothes separating him made him feel uncomfortably distant, until the boundary between them was too irritating and he forced himself to sit up abruptly, separating their mouths with a ‘plop’ that left Sanji leaning upwards into the air longingly. He looked up at Zoro kneeling over him to get a full view of the swordsman shouldering off the kimono to expose his bare chest in all it’s tanned, scarred glory. Zoro unwrapping the sash that bound the fabric together with seductively precise movements, gazing down greedily at Sanji’s mouth, once again biting at the lower lip.

_ God, he had no idea how sexy he was with that oral fixation. _

The dark green fabric fell away from the tanned, muscular body and Zoro slid his black pants down to his knees until they reached Sanji’s legs, then pulled Sanji’s pants down further until both of their trousers were a tangle at their knees. The chef’s button down had managed to slide back into place over Sanji’s chest and Zoro tugged at it.

“Off,” he commanded gruffly, sending a shiver through Sanji who immediately scowled indignantly.

“I’m- I’m only doing this so you don’t die, marimo,” the chef protested, but obliged, unbuttoning his shirt. Zoro growled at him, tempted to rip the buttons off and devour the man for the irritating reply that he knew would weigh heavily on him later. 

Zoro didn’t bother waiting until the shirt was fully off, sliding calloused palms up Sanji’s torso the moment the buttons had come loose. He lowered himself until their naked bodies were pressed together, revelling in the feeling of Sanjis flushed skin on his. Tucking his face into the crook of Sanji’s neck, Zoro wrapped his arms tightly around the chef’s shoulders, holding them close together, and ground his hips into the other man so that their erections slid against each other. Groaning into Sanji’s shoulder he began thrusting slowly, opening his lips to mouth at Sanji’s neck. Their movements were so lewd yet endearingly innocent, rubbing against each other desperately but not going any further than frotting. 

Sliding a hand down Sanji’s side, Zoro squeezed at the firm hip muscles, ass, thighs. He slid his fingers under Sanji’s right leg and pulled it up around his waist, bringing their hips closer together so that their arousals were squeezed together between their abs. Zoro slipped a hand between them, grasping both of their lengths in a firm grip and stroking in time with his needy thrusting, occasionally dipping down to squeeze Sanji’s sack and rub the soft patch of skin behind it, sending waves of pleasure rippling through the chef. Sanji’s head tilted to the side as he breathed heavily, body rocking with pleasure, eyes half lidded and regarding Zoro through a curtain of sweat-slicked locks. Zoro claimed the lower lip that Sanji had been unconsciously biting and kissed him messily through each erratic thrust, the pleasure building, the pressure mounting within the both of them. 

Groaning through the kiss Sanji bit back at Zoro’s tongue which only spurred him on. Fingernails were biting into Zoro’s back while imagery of being inside Sanji flashed through his mind. The thought of it alone made their actions seem chaste in comparison, the impossible obscenity of thrusting inside the chef so unbearably erotic that it brought Zoro closer and closer to the edge. He wanted that, the closeness, the oneness, the completeness of being inside another person, enveloped in the tight heat and delivering them unspeakable pleasure. He imagined burying his shaft deep inside Sanji, stroking the places no one had ever touched, bringing him the pleasure he never dared dream of, crashing into him like waves lapping at the shore, growing stronger until they reared back into a tidal wave bearing down and smashing through Sanji’s walls to fill him completely with ecstasy. 

_ Fuck. _

He was close. Sanji’s brain couldn’t comprehend that just hours earlier the two of them were nothing more than shipmates constantly at each other’s throats, because now he felt like his body would be physically deprived without Zoro this close to him. He was fucking into that powerful hand with a desperately urgent heat that built up like a volcano about to burst, feeling their dicks pressed together and sliding against each other rhythmically was so deliciously obscene and he was secretly reveling in the profanity. 

_ Fuck _ . He wanted more.

When this encounter was over and the effects of that weird beam wore off would they be cast back into the throes of normalcy? Sanji didn’t think he could return to that. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed this. It was suddenly so simple and clear how this was the next logical step after their constant bickering and fighting and kicking each other’s asses. This, this was right. Wasn’t it? And what would come after this? He didn’t want to go back to normal. A bewildering ache ripped through Sanji’s chest at the thought of what would happen when this was over, and he pushed himself to last just a little bit longer to prolong the pleasure of their compromising position. Finally his thoughts went hazy and he felt the pressure mounting to a peak, just as Zoro’s thrusting and stroking became erratic, his breathing rough and labored over Sanji’s lips. 

“Don’t stop,” Sanji muttered breathlessly, revelling in the mind-numbing pleasure.

The encouraging words lit a fire in Zoro that had him biting down into Sanji’s neck with bruising force to suppress his moans as he thrust through their orgasms, bodies racked with pleasure. Zoro’s mind was numb to everything but Sanji and the sensations of the body under him. Sanji arched into Zoro’s body, head rolling back with a long groan of ecstasy as his fingers dug deep into Zoro’s back, grasping him tightly for as long as he could, until the waves of euphoria washed over them and away, where they would be left to return to their former lives as if nothing had happened between them…

They remained breathing heavily until Zoro pushed himself up off of Sanji, not wanting to give the chef the chance to push him away first. Cum was spread between them and dripping from their stomachs obscenely. Sanji managed to find a handkerchief amongst his clothes to clean himself off, and tossed it towards Zoro when he was done, pulling his pants up and lying back down in the grass to close his eyes and light a cigarette. Neither of them spoke, neither knowing what to say or what any of this had meant. Sanji had simply done this to save Zoro’s life, right? He was a chef and he would not let his crewmates starve, in any way, shape, or form. Zoro knew not to overthink it. 

As soon as Zoro’s orgasm had passed, the pang of hunger and desire had lifted off of him and he could feel himself being freed of the spell. Yet for some reason, looking over at Sanji lying in the grass, shirt splayed open and smoking a cigarette, he couldn’t help but feel that bit of longing still lingering deep within him. It made him feel an uncharacteristic sort of melancholy, as if he had lost something he’d never had, or gotten a taste of something forbidden and unobtainable. 


	2. The tables turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Sanji is hit by the beam and the two men struggle to deny their feelings?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my betas Karla and Cotzo! Enjoy the smutt lol

When asked why they had returned to the ship empty-handed, Sanji explained that he and Zoro got caught up fighting enemy pirates and were unable to gather supplies. It was the truth, just not the whole truth. He was sure to warn the crew of the dangerous devil fruit user, but he neglected to share the details of the devil fruit power. That power and the events that transpired in the forest would forever be their dirty, shameful little secret.

While they waited for the log pose to set, the chef and the swordsman returned to their normal routines, Zoro taking up a particularly intense workout regimen and Sanji making extra extravagant snacks for the ladies. They put on an exaggerated act of normalcy to assert that nothing had changed between them, and yet, this return to normalcy was secretly disappointing for the both of them. Somehow, a part of them was hoping for a change. There was a secret ache in Sanji’s chest that was shared equally by Zoro, a kind of forbidden longing that they both tried their hardest to suppress. 

Despite things going back to normal, there was an unshakeable awkwardness between the two men. Self-conscious and anxious, Sanji found himself agonizing over what Zoro must think of him now. He had, after all, not been affected by the lustful power, yet he’d responded to Zoro’s advances willingly and eagerly. He was afraid that perhaps Zoro would think differently of him. He was afraid that the swordsman would realize that Sanji had enjoyed it, even wanted it, wanted Zoro, when Zoro had only needed the nearest person. He felt exposed and vulnerable.

On the contrary, Zoro felt mounting guilt every time he thought of the chef. Certain that he had taken advantage of Sanji, he worried that he’d subjected the chef to unwanted things, forced him into a situation with Zoro of all people, a man, and a man he disliked. The foolish chef would never let a crewmate suffer, so Sanji had, of course, acted out of a sense of duty, not desire. Zoro passed no judgement on Sanji, rather, he was hard on himself. He felt like he had gone too far, taken advantage of the situation, and it made him feel extremely guilty. He kept wondering how much of what he’d done had been a result of the beam, and how much of it was in fact his own hidden desires. New feelings were budding within him that he couldn’t explain, feelings that bloomed in his chest whenever he caught Sanji’s eyes, or simply watched his focused face as he worked in the kitchen. 

Sanji, with his sinfully long legs, dexterous hands, and calm, handsome face… had he always been this terribly alluring? Was that why Zoro had always felt that rush of adrenaline when he looked at him, felt the need to instigate a fight, to engage with him physically? Was the hostility between them always just thinly veiled sexual tension? These new realizations were throwing Zoro off balance and causing him to feel unstable in the presence of the chef. He avoided Sanji for fear that the man would see through him, see through his feelings. Zoro hoped these feelings would pass soon so things could return to normal. He didn’t want to think of how Sanji would react if he discovered that Zoro was secretly harboring desires for him. It would ruin everything. Sanji would be disgusted with him.

Zoro hoped that his feelings were only the lingering result of their physical encounter and nothing deeper. Perhaps it was normal to feel this way for a while after being intimate with someone. Zoro had little sexual experience to go on; a life as a vagabond and then at sea left him little opportunity for such activities. While he had experimented occasionally at the odd port or village bar, the incident with Sanji had by far been the most powerful and intense sexual experience of his life. Of course, he was sure the reason it was so intense was due to the devil fruit power, not his partner. The beam, it was all the beam that caused such intense feelings of desire and satisfaction. It didn’t matter if he had been with Sanji or someone else, right? 

Sanji, on the other hand, had no such reassurance. He had not been affected by the beam. Nonetheless, the encounter had been immensely erotic and fulfilling and he couldn’t explain why. Perhaps it was the desperation to save Zoro? Or perhaps it was just Zoro... The thought haunted him. He wanted to be angry, to lash out, to hate the marimo, but just a glance in the man’s direction brought a flood of sinful thoughts into his head and it was all he could do to stave them off and keep his body from responding. Damn that shirtless marimo for his caramel skin glistening with sweat, lifting weights massive enough to sink a ship, muscles bulging obscenely, tendons in his neck strained and face stern, just as he had been lying on top of Sanji in the forest...

_ No! _ Sanji pulled at his hair and slammed his eyes shut. Damn his wandering thoughts and traitorous body! He wasn’t sure if he could go on like this. He wanted, needed more. He wanted closure, or perhaps, if the option was there, he wanted the beginning of something new between them. It was all too confusing. His brain was compromised. He wished things could go back to normal, but in the same time, he longed for change.

\-------------------------------------------

“I’m planning on exploring the island some more to gather some fresh fruits and vegetables, can I get anything for my lovely ladies while I’m ashore?” 

The amorous chef had just served breakfast and was now pouring some freshly-squeezed juice for Nami and Robin, the women of the crew. 

“I would rather like to explore the island for evidence of any lost civilizations,” replied the archaeologist. “Sanji, do you mind if I accompany you in search of artifacts or corpses?”

Sanji turned to her delighted, “Oh Robin, it would be my pleasure!” 

The remaining crew members divided up tasks, with Chopper and Nami deciding to go to shore to search for medicinal herbs while Nami worked on her map and Zoro, Franky, and Usopp staying on board to make repairs and guard the ship.

As they disembarked, Sanji gushed, all but skipping around the raven haired woman, “Robin dear, how lucky I am to wander the forest with your beautiful self!”

Robin chuckled in her usual mysterious way, stepping gracefully through the thickly wooded brush. “Seems like you always run into trouble when you’re with Mr. Swordsman.”

“That fool is a magnet for trouble,” Sanji scowled, glancing down to hide the slight flush that came to his ears as he thought of what had happened between them. 

Robin was not oblivious, and she’d had her suspicions that something unspoken had transpired the day before. “Still, it’s unusual for you two to come back empty handed. You usually compete for who can bring back the most supplies. Something quite unusual must have occured.”

Sanji was always impressed by Robin’s powers of perception, but it was certainly unsettling when directed towards himself. “As always, you’re as intelligent as you are beautiful! ‘Unusual’ would be the perfect way to describe those pirates… Truly a strange group.”

“Hmm,” the archaeologist eyed him knowingly, but didn’t press further.

“Ah, look at these fruit!” Sanji was saved from the conversation by the large yellow orbs growing on the surrounding brush. He began plucking the fruit to place in the basket he was carrying. “There certainly is a lot of interesting vegetation on this island.”

“Indeed. With the tropical climate and fertile, arid land, it’s strange that there aren’t any people here,” Robin mused, “Perhaps they were all wiped out by a plague, or some kind of man-eating beast…”

Sanji laughed nervously, turning to investigate some potentially edible leafy greens. 

“Oh, isn’t this a kind of aloe?” Robin asked, pointing towards an extremely large, spiky growth of green.

“It is! What a great find, Robin! Chopper will definitely make use of this, and there are a few recipes I can use it in as well.” The chef cut off a few large leaves, pulling them away from the plant leaving long trails of clear, gooey liquid. The thick, slimy juice had soothing healing properties when applied to wounds and was also a healthy ingredient to add to various food and drink recipes. 

As they ventured deeper into the forest, Robin was unable to find any noteworthy signs of civilization, but they were able to gather quite a nice collections of fruit and vegetables. They were having a casual conversation about what recipes Sanji would make with the new supplies when they heard movement coming from beyond the trees. 

“Allow me,” Robin said, immediately alert. She crossed her arms in front of her chest to sprout eyes and ears on the trees ahead of them to identify the disturbance. “It appears to be a group of.. Strangely dressed men...”

“Damn, it’s the guys from yesterday. The captain is short and pudgy, he’s the only one that’s dangerous, is he with them?” Sanji whispered, lowering his baskets and bags of supplies to prepare for a fight. 

“They all look short and pudgy to me…” Robin replied. “I can dispatch them,” she assured, then closed her eyes and uttered, “ _ Ocho Fleur, strangle _ !” 

A sickening crunching sound and the pained cries of men could be heard, followed by the sound of heavy masses hitting the forest floor.

“Amazing, Robin-chan! Taking out the enemy before they’re even in view!” Sanji praised. 

“There may be more, we should be careful,” Robin cautioned, glancing around.

Suddenly, a familiar pink light shot towards them and Sanji shouted, “Behind you!” and pulled Robin aside. This was bad. If Robin got hit by this beam, his precious flower, to be put in such an obscene situation, it would be unforgivable! “Watch out for the pink light, do not get hit no matter what!” Sanji shouted.

“Is this the pirate you two encountered yesterday?”

“Yes, his power is very… unpleasant.”

The cowardly pirate remained hidden behind the trees as he fired off his beams, 

“Show yourself, you coward!” Sanji shouted, running in the direction of the pink light, dodging the attacks easily. “You’re a dead man!” He was genuinely angry. Because of this bastard, he had been feeling unwanted things towards Zoro that he wished he could just ignore. This guy had made a mess of everything, and there wasn’t a way in hell he would let that disgusting power be used on his beautiful Miss Robin. “Stay back, Robin, this is one power I absolutely cannot let hit you!”

“Mister cook..” Robin was about to protest, but he had run into the woods and left her standing there by the supplies. 

The sounds of shouting and scampering could be heard before Sanji’s voice resounded in a growl, “Found you.”

“B-Beam! Lust Lust Beam!” was shouted in a shrill voice, as Sanji shouted simultaneously, “ _ Diable Jamble _ !” and the sound of something heavy crashing through the trees echoed through the forest. Then there was calm. Robin assumed that Sanji had taken care of the enemy and smiled to herself, until she heard the labored breathing and heavy steps of the chef returning. She approached him in concern, but when he appeared from behind a tree he held out a hand to stop her, warning, “Stay back! Don’t come any closer!”

Robin looked at him, worry etched onto her usually calm features. “What happened?”

There was no way in the universe that Sanji would allow Robin to be sullied by this treacherous power, or by his own affected hands. The familiar stab of hunger wracked his body, but it was a different hunger than the one he was intimately familiar with. This hunger originated from a place deeper than his stomach, and made his brain hazy with a craving that wasn’t for food. He could barely stand, with the amount of self restraint he was exerting, but he was sure he could run to Robin in an instant to ravish her if he allowed himself. He spoke out through gritted teeth, “Please, go back to the ship. I’ll be fine, I’ll be right after you. I can’t involve you with this, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“But Sanji,” she protested, taking a step towards him.

“NO!” the chef barked, “ _ Please _ .”

Robin had never heard Sanji raise his voice towards her, and it spoke volumes of the situation. Sanji was begging her to leave him there, and she couldn’t step on his pride by disregarding him, especially as she had no understanding of the situation. “I’ll go to the ship and get Chopper.”

Sanji could only nod, keeping his gaze fixated on the ground in front of him, not sure what would happen if he looked at the beautiful woman. He was terrified that he would be driven with a madness to assault her, and another part of him was terrified that he’d feel no such urge at all. 

Robin turned and hurried back to the ship, leaving Sanji and the bags of supplies, hoping that she was doing the right thing. When she was out of sight, Sanji slid to the ground, leaning back against the tree trembling as he tried to breathe slowly. What was going to happen to him? Would he really die? No. There was no way he was going to go out like this. He’d dealt with hunger before, this was no different, right? The man said he just had to reach ecstasy, that was something he could do on his own, right? 

Slouching into the tree behind him, he moved a shaky hand between his legs and began rubbing himself through his pants. His body reacted immediately, and he tried thinking erotic thoughts of beautiful women to help himself along. But for some reason, as much as he tried imagining smooth breasts and curved waists, the visions in his head took on the shape of a hardened chest, sun-tanned and misty with sweat, marred by scars which rippled with every movement. His thoughts were completely occupied by Zoro. Not Nami, not Robin, not any other beautiful girl he’d met in his travels. Every time he tried to envision an erotic fantasy, it was Zoro. It was so fucking frustrating! But only thoughts of the swordsman were bringing him further along, and fuck, did it feel good. Soon the events from the day before were replaying in his head. The way Zoro had kissed him with a fervent hunger, the way Sanji had been desperately  _ needed _ . The way Zoro had been brought to his knees, weak to his desire for Sanji, unable to resist touching him, kissing him, pressing their bodies together sinfully. It had been so wrong but so, fucking, good. 

Sanji panted heavily, releasing the clasp on his belt and sliding a hand into his pants to stroke at his hot, aching length, remembering the way Zoro’s wet, starving mouth had swallowed him whole. Zoro had sucked Sanji off while pleasuring himself, as if the act of giving him head was arousing enough to jack off too. Fuck. Sanji hated himself right now for being so hard and so hot to thoughts of Zoro, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever live it down, but it seems to be the best thing to turn him on right now and bring him closer to release. Except the release wasn’t close at all. He felt the tension building, felt the pleasure from his pumping hand, but the release seemed so far away, almost unreachable. It had never been this hard to come before, he could usually get himself off quite efficiently when he needed a release, but for some reason, right now it seemed almost impossible to do with just his hands. Maybe this was a result of the power? It had to be done between two people? No. It couldn’t be, that would spell disaster for Sanji. 

Leaves rustled and Sanji’s eyes snapped open as he turned his head in the direction of the sound a little too fast, making his head spin and a wave of dizziness wash over him. Through heavy lashes Sanji could see a splash of green moving through green, and it took his heart jumping into his throat in shock for his brain to realize that Zoro was strolling towards him. Was this for real? What was the bastard doing here? Of all people to appear, the swordsman would be the most troublesome. He hated that his heart leapt in excitement upon seeing the marimo. He tried backing away instinctively but found his back already pressed against the rough bark of a tree. He spoke out angrily, finding his voice rough and husky with barely tamed wanton.

“What are you doing here?”

Zoro strode towards him purposefully, face stern and unreadable. “Robin told us what happened.”

“So why did you come?” Why would the swordsman willingly put himself back into the same situation they had suffered just a day earlier?

“Returning the favor, shit cook,” Zoro replied simply, expression set on not reveailing his intentions or emotions.

A flush of vexation rose in Sanji as he protested, “I don’t want you to.” And as soon as the words left his mouth he knew they were a lie. His body was already responding to Zoro’s presence in a way it had not responded to his hand.

Zoro’s eyebrow twitched and an indiscernible emotion crossed his face momentarily. “So you’d rather die?” He growled.

Of course, the chef knew that Zoro was right, but his pride was too great to allow himself to be saved by the swordsman in such a pitiful manner. “Fuck off. It’s just hunger, it’s nothing I can’t manage on my own.”

Zoro’s eyes flicked down to the hand on Sanji’s bulged trousers, which the chef noted shamefully. The swordsman was thoughtful for a moment before speaking quietly. “Should I get Nami instead?”

“No!” Sanji barked out sharply. “I can’t defile her with something like this.”

Zoro exhaled a huff, mulling through the implications of that statement. Did Sanji feel like he had been defiled by Zoro? Had he hated it so much? Did he hate  _ him _ ? A gut-wrenching guilt passed over him again. Sanji didn’t want Zoro to be there. Even under the dreadful spell, Sanji resisted him. He felt hollowed out. Was this because he wanted to be with Sanji in that way again? Was it because he wanted Sanji to want him with the same urgency Zoro had wanted him the day before? Had he come here with the intention of saving Sanji and returning the favor, or of laying with Sanji in pursuit of fulfilling his own bodily desires? He felt confused and corrupted. Sitting down on a fallen log he remained a small distance from Sanji, giving him space and regarding him with a frown.

“What are you doing?” the chef asked when Zoro did not leave.

“Waiting for you to die,” the swordsman replied, settling into his position on the log.

“Fuck you.” 

Zoro chuckled darkly, “Was that a request?”

A heat rose up to Sanji’s already reddened cheeks as he grated out, “Fuck off!” He was already flustered, but the suggestive comment only set his mind spiraling down the lecherous path he had tried so hard to steer it away from. Sanji’s cloudy, lust-filled mind was too preoccupied to notice the despondent gloom surrounding Zoro. His rejection had a greater effect on the swordsman than he could possibly know, and Zoro was thinking back to his own experience with the beam, feeling weak in comparison. Here Sanji was, defiantly resisting his bodily urges, when Zoro had given in so quickly and earnestly, kissing Sanji and violating his body eagerly. Was that the truth of his nature? Was he really such an beast lacking self-restraint? And did Sanji despise him so much that, despite the painful urges Zoro knew all too intimately, he would not engage Zoro for relief? It was a painful thought, especially with the knowledge that Zoro’s feelings for Sanji were deeper than he had ever suspected. He wanted more from the chef, and part of him had come here in hopes that he could reconcile their feelings in another intimate tryst.

With a sigh, Zoro muttered, “Just let me know when you can’t take it anymore,” and sat back, regarding the chef with tired eyes, determined not to upset him, but also determined not to let Sanji suffer more than necessary from the effects of the attack.

“Shut up, I can deal with this myself,” the chef insisted.

“Go for it.”

Sanji huffed, “Don’t look at me,” he ordered with a flush as he looked down at his hand in his slacks.

Scowling, Zoro compiled by turning to sit facing away from the chef, leaning down to rest his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms.

From his vantage on the log, Zoro could vaguely hear the sound of rustling cloth and skin moving against skin, and he found the quiet suggestion of motion quite arousing in itself, but he greedily wanted to hear Sanji’s voice, along with the reassurance that whatever Sanji was doing was working. Or wasn’t working. The more he imagined what Sanji was doing behind him, the more he wished that he was the one doing the pleasuring. But that’s not what Sanji wanted, he had to remind himself. He would never force himself onto Sanji. He would never coerce the man he respected so much into unwilling acts of depravity. He would only do something if Sanji was on the verge of death and there was no other way to save the man’s life. If that happened, Zoro would be there. But only to provide the minimum life-saving applications to cure him, nothing more. 

Glaring at Zoro’s back, Sanji stroked himself off, eyes settling on the sharp contours and faint outlines of muscles visible through the swordsman’s clothes. He knew every line of that toned body from seeing that glistening back on the ship nearly every day, bare and tanned and powerful. Somehow, just Zoro’s presence here was making this whole process easier, which only made Sanji feel worse. Gritting his teeth, he unbuttoned his pants only to recall the seductive way Zoro had popped that button open with his teeth just a day earlier.  _ Fuck. _ He stroked himself firmly, feeling strained, glaring at the clothed back of his crewmate and fantasizing about all the things Zoro had and hadn’t done to him, but rather than bringing him closer, the hunger only grew deeper and he felt like each stroke was bringing him backwards. He bit back a groan of frustration, just as the warm rumble of Zoro’s baritone spoke out.

“I don’t hear you. Make some noise so I know you’re not dead.” 

Groaning, Sanji threw a rock at Zoro’s head, speaking in a strained voice, “Useless… moss head.. Pervert...”

With a frown, Zoro could hear the labored pace of Sanji’s breathing, unsteady and punctuated with suppressed chokes, gasps. Without being able to see the man, the sounds alone were both worrisome and highly erotic. Zoro could only imagine what Sanji looked like, flushed, desperate, and needy while he stroked himself. Fuck. Zoro was getting aroused just thinking of Sanji. How sick was he to be getting turned on by Sanji’s unfortunate predicament. His crewmate was suffering and at the risk of dying, yet Zoro was sitting here aroused by it all. He felt guilt, self-loathing, both emotions altogether unfamiliar to him and wholly unsettling. This situation was not about Zoro’s arousal or pleasure, it was about Sanji. It was about life or death and Sanji’s own dignity. Zoro would respect that at all costs. If it came down to it, he swore to preserve both Sanji’s life and dignity. 

Sanji was getting nowhere. He needed more. Having the intolerable marimo right in front of him, knowing what his hands and mouth and dick felt like but not being able to touch them was just so tantalizingly unbearable. His own hands weren’t getting him anywhere. The pit of growing desire was swelling in him like a hunger that couldn’t be filled by anything other than Zoro’s body. He wanted all of that muscle and demonic strength bearing down on him, holding him with tamed control and looking at him with unhinged desire. But this Zoro wasn’t the Zoro from last time. This Zoro didn’t want Sanji that way, didn’t desire him with that wild lust. But fuck, he felt like he was going to collapse in on himself if he didn’t get something fulfilling soon. His head felt light and a familiar weakness was setting into his body. This was the debilitating drain of starvation. Spots appeared in his vision, everything was hazy, dark. His hands slowed their ministrations and he vaguely wondered if starvation was supposed to set in this fast. Was this the end? Was he going to starve to death this time?

“Shit cook,”

Zoro’s voice felt echoed and distant. Sanji’s eyes fluttered closed and his head rolled to the side. Breathing slowed to almost nothing. The ache inside him, the emptiness swallowed him up into a pit of blackness. Hands stopped moving as his body went limp against the tree.

Silence. 

Zoro held his breath when he heard nothing from behind him. “Are you still alive?” Zoro asked, voice strained with worry as he refrained from turning his head and violating the cook’s privacy.

“If you don’t answer me in three seconds I’m turning around,” he growled, and only waited one second before he was up and looking back at Sanji with concern.

_ Fuck. _

Was he dead? Did it happen that fast? Rushing over, Zoro grasped Sanji’s lean shoulders and shook him gently, to no avail. The cook was limp but he had a pulse. Zoro gently picked him up to lay him flat on the ground and lean over him worriedly. What should he do? Would Chopper have a cure? Could he even bring the chef back to the ship in such a salacious condition? He tried shaking Sanji again, calling various insults to rouse him. Finally he did the one last thing he thought might work in Sanji’s condition; he groped the man through his pants.

Instantly, Sanji’s eyes shot open, pupils dilated and darted around in confusion.

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Zoro uttered in uncharacteristic relief.

Sanji sat up a little too fast making him even more dizzy and faint, but present enough to notice Zoro’s hand on his groin. He only stared at it, all the alarms in his head screaming  _ “what the fuck” _ were drained out by that aching hunger inside of him. He had to physically restrain himself from pouncing on the man before him, and if his body wasn’t so starved of energy he probably would have. Instead he could only look at Zoro with confused, pleading eyes that made a heat rise to Zoro’s cheeks and a desperate urge to fix Sanji drive him to action.

“I’m sorry,” Zoro said, pushing Sanji back into the grass to lay down. “This is for your own good.”

Forcing back the guilt and self loathing, he pulled the already opened slacks down Sanji’s hips along with his briefs with a swift pull, not allowing himself the luxury of admiring the view, and dove down onto Sanji’s aching stiffness with determination. Zoro’s powerful mouth, well trained from holding his sword, and with no gag reflex to speak of, seemed like it had been made to accomodate Sanji’s need. Sanji’s length in his mouth was painfully perfect, and Zoro found that his lips and tongue revelled in the taste and fullness of the chef’s arousal. But he resented his own enjoyment, believing that this was the opposite of what Sanji wanted, believing he was violating the man beneath him.

As soon as his mouth sucked in Sanji’s dick, the chef arched back in an explosion of pleasure. Powerful, rippling muscles flexed beneath the swordsman in unbridled delight from the contact. For Sanji, it was being fed cake after being starved for weeks. It felt so good. Zoro worked methodically, he was practical and purposeful, directing his pointed ministrations to deliver the pleasure Sanji needed. But it wasn’t like last time. It wasn’t with the unrestrained, urgent hunger of a predatory beast devouring its prey. It was controlled, moderated, it was passionless. 

The waves of pleasure soon plateaued as Sanji sensed the distance between them emotionally, the self-restraint Zoro practiced, the hesitation. Despite the intimacy of the act, Sanji felt a coldness welling in his gut uncomfortably. It felt too distant. It felt too controlled. Sanji was unravelling like an anchor crashing through the waves, sinking an unimaginable depth to the darkness below, and he felt like he was staring up at Zoro through the sparkling surface of the water, face distorted and distant above the waves. He needed Zoro to take the plunge with him. To dive in recklessly. To let go.

Breathing heavily, Sanji propped himself up to gaze down at the swordsman through a silky curtain of blond tresses. The mossy green hair was loose and shaggy, bobbing up and down on his erection without looking up at him as he had before with that heated, delirious gaze. He wanted that. He wanted to see that side of Zoro again, drunk on his body as if he were the finest, strongest wine that had ever touched the swordsman’s lips. He wanted to be wanted, stroked, kissed, admired, worshipped. Was yesterday just a teasing glimpse of what could never be, spurred on by that devil fruit power alone, never to exist in this bland reality? 

Keeping up a steady rhythm and licking savouringly at the organ in his mouth, Zoro tuned into Sanji’s body, only to find that something wasn’t working. Sanji’s wasn’t responding fully, it was as if there was some kind of barrier between them. Zoro began feeling strangely inadequate. He tried moving faster, swirling his tongue around the head and swallowing around the shaft as he deep throated. This was met with satisfied groans but it wasn’t enough. Sanji wasn’t enjoying this the way he had last time. What was different, what was wrong? Zoro wasn’t terribly experienced at giving head but this was the best he could do. The problem must be Zoro himself, the limitations of being a man that Sanji hardly cared for. If he were a beautiful woman then surely Sanji would be enjoying this fully. It was so frustrating. He wanted to bring Sanji pleasure, kiss him all over, kiss him passionately on the lips, he wanted to go further, he wanted Sanji to want that. All these tumultuous feelings had him reeling. He couldn’t understand how he felt such intense, lecherous desire long after the effects of the fruit had worn off. All he’d been able to think about the last few days was Sanji and their encounter. And how badly he’d wanted to do it again. But here he was, finally having another chance, and he was uselessly unable to pleasure Sanji. 

The blow job was good, in fact, it was amazing, but it didn’t fill that gut-wrenching hunger that was coming back with a vengeance. The first few minutes were incredible, he had felt the energy return to him like eating a full meal, but the fulfillment soon slipped through his fingers and he was depleted again. He needed more. He needed passion. God he just wanted Zoro to climb up and kiss him! This fucking curse was so confusing. What was he supposed to do? It wasn’t enough just to receive amazing head, it had to be fastidious about the whole thing.

Reaching down, Sanji placed a steadying hand behind Zoro’s head and curled his fingers into the hair, willing the man to stop.

_ No. Fuck. _ Zoro could feel the hand steadying the back of his head.  _ Don’t let it be over yet. _ This was probably the only other chance he’d ever get to pleasure Sanji, and somewhere in the back of his mind he had thought that maybe if he did a good job Sanji might let him do this again even without being under the influence of the fruit. It didn’t have to mean anything, he wasn’t naive enough to hope for more, to hope for the chef to develop special feelings for him. Just pleasuring him would be enough, he just wanted to do this. He just wanted to hear Sanji cry out. 

Zoro pulled back obediently, letting the firm cock slide out of his mouth, and slowly looked up at Sanji, trying to mask the mournfulness on his features by knitting his brow.

Sanji’s eyes were pleading. His mouth was slack, open just enough that Zoro could see the wetness of his tongue behind his supple lips, and the expression on Sanji’s face was that of longing, desperation. Zoro’s whole body stirred just looking at the sensuous countenance. Sanji was nervous, delirious, a hesitant supplication on his lips. Sanji swallowed, glancing away, unable to meet the swordsman’s eyes as he begged in a whisper.

“Kiss me.”

A surge of emotion filled Zoro. Sanji didn’t have to ask twice before strong, warm hands were cradling his face in earnest, hot breath dancing across his lips as Zoro closed the space between them with a long, sensual kiss. It was exactly what the both of them had been secretly longing for. An act of intimacy that surpassed sexual desire.

It was impossible for Sanji to hold back the moan that vibrated from his mouth and into Zoro’s like electricity passing between them. The swordsman pulled the sounds out of him, kissing him deeply, head tilted just enough for their mouths to mesh perfectly, tongue slowly caressing, sucking at the swollen lips and cautious tongue.

The doubts in Zoro’s brain were pushed aside as he was overcome with the moment, with fulfilling this request. Sanji could have asked him for anything and Zoro would have done it, and Sanji asked him for a kiss. Zoro would damn well kiss him within an inch of his life. 

The swordsman was pulled close in an intimate embrace. Zoro wrapped his strong arms around Sanji’s torso and lifted him effortlessly, pulling him from his spot on the forest floor onto his lap. The chef, not breaking from Zoro’s lips, adjusted his legs, kneeling so that he straddled the swordsman’s hips. Powerful, massively muscled arms were holding him close, locking Sanji in place on Zoro’s lap where he felt more comfortable and secure than anywhere in the world. The feeling of intimacy and security filled him with a growing warmth that spread from his stomach through his legs and chest. Something about their connected bodies felt so right. His body moved instinctually, rolling his hips to grind into the swordsman’s groin, deepening the kiss as Zoro let out a low growl from the sensation. He could feel that Zoro was painfully hard underneath him which brought Sanji unspeakable satisfaction, knowing the feeling was mutual. He didn’t want this to be a one sided thing, he wanted Zoro to be equally involved, to enjoy it as much as Sanji had the first time when the roles were reversed. 

Nimble fingers snaked down Zoro’s chest to desperately pull up Zoro’s clothes, peeling off the dark green robe and pulling off the haramaki to reveal a bare and toned chest. Zoro’s hands worked with equal intention, unbuttoning the top few buttons of Sanji’s shirt before pulling it off, not bothering with the rest of the buttons. Bare chested, they pressed against each other, grinding their arousals together through the restraints of fabric, hands clawing at belt buckles and waist bands, awkwardly lifting and adjusting to slide pants over hip bones and smooth muscle until all their clothes were piles around and beneath them in a tangle. They revelled in their nakedness, kissing like starved beasts, desperately hungry for the other’s mouth. Zoro lowered his head to feast on the long, pale neck, pressing his lips into a throbbing pulse, biting and sucking and leaving a trail of wet red marks that he hoped would prolong the memory of this moment. He leaned forward, letting Sanji fall back into his secure grasp, and rocked his hips as he trailed a tongue over the tempting surface of Sanji’s pectorals, smooth and toned. The chef was taking every effort to maintain his composure, trembling in Zoro’s arms as he was devoured. The swordsman’s tongue reach the petal soft pink circle of Sanji’s nipple and greedily lapped the textured flat of his tongue over the surface, feeling the skin pucker and harden magically in his mouth. He sucked at it, nipped gently, and elicited the most wonderful mewls from the chef, feeling his body unravel from the new sensation. With pride, Zoro thought to himself that no woman had done this for him before, that he was administering a new kind of pleasure to Sanji’s virginal chest. Charged by these thoughts, he eagerly dragged his mouth to the other nipple, biting it to hardness, feeling Sanji’s fingers curl around his arms, fingernails bite into his skin as the pleasure seared through him. 

Anything. He would do anything for Sanji when he was like this.

He returned to Sanji’s abandoned mouth, wet with saliva, kissing back with abandon. Zoro’s hand slid between their bodies, wrapping roughly around the twin arousals, and squeezed gently, making the engorged heads press into each other obscenely as he rubbed them up and down together. Sanji broke the kiss to gasp and Zoro took the opportunity to look down at the flushed erections, pressed into each other so lovingly like their bodies were now. It was so extraordinarily arousing to have both of their cocks in his hand, squeezed together as if they were one organ, their pleasures one and the same. The creamy drops of precum glistening at the tips of both rosy heads were delicious, and he stroked slowly to coax more fluid from them. 

Sanji’s mind was a white haze. The only thing that existed in this world were their two connected bodies and the pleasure they brought one another. Nothing else seemed to matter. None of the worries that plagued him, none of the petty arguments, none of the concerns about what Zoro thought or what this all meant, none of it mattered. Just Zoro’s lips and Zoro’s hands on him perfectly building his climax. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him to make it last, to prolong this moment as long as he could, as it may never happen again, and a deep sadness filled him at the thought that all of this was temporary. He took Zoro’s mouth back, slid his hand over Zoro’s and joined him, holding the hand holding their cocks. They kissed and rocked into each other, the rough texture of Zoro’s calloused hands hurting in a sinful way, the slow and steady ministrations inching them closer at a gruelling pace. The dry abrasion of skin against skin forced Zoro to stroke gently, and vaguely Sanji remembered something. The supplies.

“The supplies,” Sanji muttered aloud.

Zoro frowned, wondering why Sanji was worried about the supplies at a time like this.

“Just bring them,” 

And Zoro obeyed, pausing his ministrations to reach over and drag the bag of supplies towards them. Sanji rifled through them with one hand, his head resting on Zoro’s shoulder, until he withdrew the large leaf of aloe, still oozing it’s slimy juices. Breaking off a section of the plump succulent vegetation, Sanji dug his fingers into the soft, clear flesh and scooped out a handful of slimy pulp, squeezing it in his hand making it squelch obscenely. He sat back up and slid his hand coated in the cool slime over the two hard shaft. Zoro hissed at the cold touch and then claimed Sanji’s mouth to moan into it when the hand began to move. He added his own hand to Sanji’s eagerly, slick with juice, and pumped up and down, massaging both heads with slick fingers. The difference with the lubrication was unreal, the sensation so much more intense and liberating.

Their kisses became messier, frantic, and as each stroke became more erratic, each thrust of the hips more punctuated and desperate, they found themselves with their heads on each others shoulders, barely able to support themselves. Sanji’s mouth still worked, kissing and sucking at Zoro’s neck, biting down deeply as his pleasure mounted, Zoro doing the same, with his arms wrapped posessively around the chef’s lean frame, feeling every twitch and tremble. Hiding their faces in the hollows of the other’s neck, they moaned unrestrainedly as they approached their peak. When they came it was loud and messy and together. Zoro’s hand pumped through the shuddering orgasm as hot cum spilled over his and Sanji’s fists, stroked through each convulsion as the oversensitive flesh was stimulated. And as Zoro’s shaft softened he found that as he continued stroking, Sanji’s did not. No, it remained fully erect even through the orgasm, not coming down from it’s high, defiantly firm in its demand for more pleasure. 

For a heart stopping moment Zoro though that he had come before the chef, but the moans and shudders, the throb he felt under his very fingers and the effusive mix of fluids over his hands were confirmation that Sanji had indeed finished, yet he was not finished. Was this the work of the beam? Had Zoro not completed his job adequately? Was this normal?

As soon as he came, Sanji felt the effects of the beam wear off. The hunger was sated, the delirious craving fulfilled, yet the longing that had taken root deep within him remained. As his mind returned to him he realized with confusion and embarrassment that he was still achingly hard and needy, and as he raised his head he catched Zoro’s eyes, wide and confused and concerned. But without further hesitation, and maintaining eye contact to read Sanji’s expression, Zoro took his sticky hand and fisted Sanji’s cock once more. The flutter of eyelashes and the moan that escaped Sanji was all the swordsman needed to continue. Sanji realized that Zoro had no idea that the beam had already worn off. His current erection was just an artifact of Sanji’s natural libido, and anything Zoro did from this point on would have no life-saving implications, it would only be for Sanji’s pleasure. But Sanji selfishly hid this knowledge for the sake of indulging, overindulging in what Zoro had to offer.

Thinking that he hadn’t done something right, Zoro faced his mission with renewed intensity. Perhaps he had been too focused on his own pleasure, perhaps he hadn’t been in tune enough with Sanji’s body, because he hadn’t finished the cook off completely, he hadn’t fully depleted him of his erotic desire. The rock hard cock in his hands was a testament to his failure, and Zoro would pull out ever bit of knowledge and experience he had to fulfill Sanji properly. He worked his hand with determination, kissed Sanji deeply, then pushed him onto his back. 

Kissing down the lean torso, Zoro once again mouthed the pink nipples, coaxing them to a tingling hardness, then kissed down Sanji’s stomach, past his naval, stroking the slick shaft all the while. He felt the tension ease out of Sanji as his muscles quivered and became malleable. Zoro lowered his head to Sanji’s shaft, indifferent to the wet mixture of come and aloe juice all over and licked it from base to tip. Sanji, leaning up on his elbow, watched him with wide and apprehensive eyes, finding Zoro’s willing submission to this dirty and depraved act mortifyingly hot. The swordsman maintained eye contact as his lowered his mouth over Sanji’s messy erection until it was plunged deep into his throat. The taste was salty and musky and organic, not unpleasant at all. He rose up and down Sanji’s length, turning his head to angle his strokes in the most sensational way he knew how. Exploratory hands massaged Sanji’s powerful thighs, dipped between them to fondle the soft sack with gentle squeezes and pulls which Sanji enjoyed vocally. He lets his fingers venture back, just slightly enough to press into the smooth patch of skin that he knew was connected to nerves deeper inside, feeling strong thighs twitch against his shoulders from the stimulation. He wondered if Sanji would let him go further, let him pleasure him in the best way Zoro knew how. 

Hands still slick with come and aloe, Zoro let his fingers slide backwards just a bit more and looked up at the chef for permission. Sanji’s eyes were hazy. He panted open mouthed and eager for whatever Zoro had to offer. The swordsman took this as motivation to be a man of action and hoped he wouldn’t overstep any boundaries with what he was about to do. He had done this just a couple times before, experimental little trysts with nameless men he took home from nameless bars on nameless islands. They had taught him how to please a man. The true way, the way to bring pleasure in its more raw and primal form, how to touch the source, the center, where all ecstasy is born. He wanted to do this for Sanji.

Slick and sticky fingers slid their way between firm cheeks and found Sanji’s entrance, soft and puckered. It twitched and clenched at Zoro’s touch and Sanji’s breath hitched. Zoro looked into his eyes as he traced circles around the sensitive skin. The eyes were dark and desperate, confused but willing, love-drunk and engorged with passion. It was overwhelming. He had to be back on those lips for this. Leaving his hand in place between Sanji’s legs, he crawled up, slid his body over Sanji’s and returned to his mouth. A hot kiss, and the puckered entrance relaxed, permitting Zoro to take the plunge. Zoro slid his tongue into Sanji’s mouth as his finger pressed inside, diving past the first knuckle into an impossible heat. Sanji shuddered into the kiss and Zoro could feel the twitch of the chef’s dick against his stomach. Thighs tightened around his hips, then relaxed and opened wider, invitingly. Zoro broke the kiss to stare again into Sanji’s eyes and found them heavily shrouded in lashes, intoxication veiling the frenzied lust and longing behind them. Sanji did not protest, could not protest, and Zoro’s mouth fell upon his again swallowing every breathless moan as Zoro’s finger pushed deeper past the second knuckle.

Sanji was weak to the foreign invasion. It felt so wrong and yet felt like everything Sanji had ever wanted. His body trembled in anticipation of the new sensations wracking his body. It was not unpleasant. It was the opposite of unpleasant. He could taste himself on Zoro’s lips and he found that he loved it. Having Zoro fingering him felt dirty and sinful in the most erotic way, made him ache for more, and even as a second finger pressed into him, stretching him wide, the flicker of pain that shot through him only elevated the pleasure of those rough fingers sliding in and out of his most sensitive hole. And then something happened. Zoro did something with his fingers that seemed to touch the very soul of his arousal, fingered the core of his erotic being, and he was seeing stars and crying out lustfully, head falling back, exposing his smooth neck to Zoro’s plundering mouth. Teeth and lips were upon him, fingers were inside him. Rough hands were in his hair, tangling. Sanji bucked his hips into the fingers, fucking himself on Zoro’s powerful hands, his cock sliding against Zoro’s defined stomach and quickly hardening arousal. 

Wrapping his arms around the swordsman’s neck, Sanji rolled his hips and splayed his legs open wide to allow the fingers to plunder him deeper. It felt good. It felt too good. How could something this sinful feel so good? But it was Zoro, it was Zoro so it’s okay. Sanji’s hands slid over Zoro’s body, pressed into every defined curve of musculature, roamed down Zoro’s front until he found Zoro’s condition, the hardness that had risen again. He clasped it making Zoro buckle, his hands falter, his mouth choke on Sanji’s lips. The chef was merciless, fully intent on ensuring Zoro’s mutual satisfaction when the most terrible, most terrifying, most spectacular idea flashed into his mind. 

Pushing Zoro off of him, Sanji pushed him back to sit up. Zoro’s fingers slid out of him as he looked at Sanji in concern. Offering an encouraging kiss, the chef assured Zoro that he had done nothing wrong by kissing him deeply, conveying as much of the satisfaction and eagerness that he could through parted lips. Then, Sanji reached to his side to grab the abandoned, leaking leaf of aloe to scoop out more of its slippery pulp. Sanji, sitting up, legs spread open in front of Zoro, brought his lubricated hand past Zoro’s own hands and went straight to the swordsman’s arousal. Wide-eyed and disbelieving, Zoro watched him stroke with a firm, slick hand, as another arm wrapped behind his neck and pulled him back into a kiss. Sanji leaned back, pulling Zoro down on top of him again, and bent his knees on either side of Zoro’s hips. 

The swordsman’s heart was racing. He felt somehow that something monumental was about to happen, but his brain was too stunned to process it. He was more aroused than he had ever been in his life. His whole soul was aching to have Sanji, to make love with him, but his body was paralyzed. Sanji had taken charge, driven by his lust and longing, motivated by the impending thought that this was his last and only chance to be with the swordsman, so he had to make the most of it, take action now, while he had this chance, while Zoro was disillusioned and willing. Grasping Zoro’s weeping erection in his hand, he positioned the plush tip between his spread legs, slit the head of the shaft to the most impossible place in the world and pressed it there, waiting for a response from Zoro. The swordsman’s brain was fried to a crisp, completely corrupted with visions of being inside Sanji.  _ Being inside Sanji. _

“Do it.”

Sanji’s voice was strained but demanding.

Zoro felt his knees go weak and his elbows nearly buckle. “Sanji,” his voice nearly cracked.

“Fucking  _ do it _ .” Sanji was insistent, determined.

Zoro still hesitated, he couldn’t help but be terrified of the consequences, he doesn't want to ruin their friendship. “If I do it, will you forgive me?”

Sanji all but growled, “If you  _ don’t  _ do it I’ll never forgive you!”

It was enough. Zoro inhaled sharply. Sanji was serious. This was really happening. He sat up straight between Sanji’s spread legs, kneeling at the altar of Sanji’s body ceremoniously. Back straight, face stern, he braced himself, placed steadying hands on Sanji’s thighs.  _ This was really happening. _

“Fucking fuck me you marim _ aaah _ ” Sanji’s words transformed into a gorgeous cadence of moans as Zoro pushed past the tightnessness into the inferno. 

An impossible heat enveloped him. It was so much tighter, so much hotter than anything he’d ever felt in his life. He was burning up. His whole body was alight, he was a candle and his dick was the wick. He was fucking a flame. He had tumbled into hell’s inferno and there was no going back now so he plunged forward, thrust into the heat like a man who had seen the face of God.

It was so good. Zoro hit that spot that turned Sanji’s bones to trembling jelly. And Zoro was in the afterlife. He had the powerful, arrogant chef at his mercy like this, hips encircled by deadly legs, thrusting inside a heavenly body. When he regained some semblance of his senses Zoro lifted a powerful leg over his shoulder to kiss it, nibble the ankle, bite the firm calf muscle. His sex was intensely steady, slow, gentle, but demanding. He wanted to pleasure Sanji, but he didn’t want to use him. 

Sanji was momentarily dazed when Zoro entered him, feeling a fullness and pressure that he’d never experienced in his life. When he regained his senses he found himself impulsively rolling his hips into every thrust, craving more. He wanted control of his pleasure. Using the leg on Zoro’s shoulder as leverage, he pulled Zoro off balance so that he fell to the side onto the grass, and in a flash Sanji was on top of the swordsman, their hips never once disconnecting, and Sanji began riding him hard and deep. His eyes were hungry and everything about the scene was so devastatingly sexy. Every sexual fantasy Zoro had ever had flew out the window because this exceeded all of them. Sanji was on top of him, riding him with reckless abandon, eyes heated and delirious with desire. Zoro grabbed the chef’s ass firmly and slammed him down on his shaft with bruising force, and the chef’s choked out a cry, back arched, arms buckled under him and he folded over. Their mouths crashed together magnetically. It was war. They were at war and both of them were simultaneously the conquerors and the conquered.

The intensity of their need melted into an urgent rocking of hips, a desire for closeness, and the hungry consumption of the others mouth. Zoro held Sanji to him tightly and rolled them over, settling deeply between Sanji’s legs which sin wrapped around his hips. They continued rocking back and forth, completely entwined, kissing with unhinged passion, Sanji’s cock squished between their stomachs and stroked with every roll of the hips. The white heat of orgasm rose like a sunrise breaching the horizon and they exploded with light, rocking into each other through the waves of pleasure, through the contractions that threatened to choke the life from Zoro’s shaft. The swordsman has seen the light and it was shaped like Sanji, tasted like Sanji, smelled like Sanji. They continued kissing and they stay connected, Zoro still deep inside the chef even as he softened. They were still kissing when the orgasm ended, and they kept kissing even as the waves of pleasure turned into waves of exhaustion, kissing and willing the moment to never end, willing the connection to last even as reality broke through their blissful escape. They kissed desperately, ignoring the warning to pull away, forcing the dream to persist into the waking mind, unforgotten. 

They lay in the soft grass, their legs tangled together and they allowed themselves to succumb to the fatigue. The warm blanket of sleep overtook them, the fresh tropical air enveloping them comfortably in the quiet of the forest. 

Sanji awoke when the sun was low on the horizon feeling warm and sated. The heavy weight of a warm arm enveloped him, and he reveled in the firm body under him. He took a precious moment to appreciate the tanned scarred skin, to touch the perfect body that had previously been so far away and out of reach. Ever so softly, secretively, so as not to wake the man beneath him, he pressed soft kisses to the collar bone felt the rush of blood pulsing under his lips on Zoro’s neck, and committed it to memory. This might be his last and only chance, he thinks, with a slight pain in his chest. He then rolled reluctantly off of Zoro and cleaned himself as best he could before dressing. He smoked a much needed cigarette, then another, and steeled his resolve until he was steady enough to return to an act of normalcy. It was time to return to the real world and leave the fantasy behind.

Throwing Zoro’s clothes over the unconscious body, Sanji nudged him none too gently with the toe of his shoe to get him up. Zoro awakened groggily, stretched shamelessly, and gazed up at the fully clothed chef, wondering for a moment if perhaps it had all been a dream. Even as he put his clothes on he wasn’t sure, it was all so fantastic and out of this world that he could hardly believe it was real. He dressed in a daze, picking up the bag of supplies wordlessly, realizing with dawning apprehension that the whole thing, all of it had been real. It had been too intense not to be, and the dried cum on his naked body was enough evidence to confirm the suspicion. It made him worry. Had he gone too far? He had gone all the way, all the way with Sanji. Just days earlier they had never so much as kissed, they more or less hated each other. Would Sanji really forgive him? Were things going to be okay between them? Zoro stole glances at Sanji for a hint, for some tell that would reveal how he felt. Zoro couldn’t find words to say, and Sanji couldn’t either. They walked back to the ship in awkward silence. Would they really be able to return to normal after this?  _ Should _ they even return to normal?

Zoro’s mind had never been so full of confusing thoughts. He was completely at a loss. He nearly ran into Sanji when the man suddenly stopped in front of him, catching himself just in time and nearly tripping. Without turning to face Zoro, Sanji spoke, finally.

“Thank you.”

Two simple words. Zoro’s anxiety fell away. The creeping guilt, the fear that he had gone too far and taken advantage of Sanji stil ate away at him, but at least Sanji had forgiven him. At least they could go back to normal.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment /review! I love critique and requests and suggestions!! It really keeps me motivated between posting chapters, you have no idea how happy your comments make me!!!
> 
>  
> 
> By the way, did you know that you can make your phone read you pages out loud? I have been listening to SO much fanfiction in Siri’s robotic voice lmao. When I’m in the car, when I’m chilling at home, when I’m working out (haha jk I don’t work out). People think I’ve got my headphones on listening to music but little do they know I’m listening to literotica/pornographic fanfiction haaaahahahaha


End file.
